


Swordplay

by XoxLadyNightxoX



Series: A Song of Swords [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Both Are Hella DTF, Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Marking, Possessive Behavior, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shameless Smut, Slightly Ambiguous, Snark, So I Decided Geralt Has A Sword Kink, Swordplay, Under-negotiated Kink, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XoxLadyNightxoX/pseuds/XoxLadyNightxoX
Summary: Jaskier is curious. Geralt is intrigued. Until they decide there are better ways to cross swords.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: A Song of Swords [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063538
Comments: 4
Kudos: 173





	Swordplay

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, 
> 
> Some of you may be new here. Welcome :) Yep quarantine is a thing and I decided Netflix is an excellent candidate to fill the void. And to no one's surprise, I fell in love with the witcher and Geralt/Jaskier has given me new life. Their dynamic is fantastic and I can't wait to delve into more ideas with them. I always welcome constructive feedback but any derogatory language will be deleted. 
> 
> Best,  
> LadyNight

You know, contrary to popular belief – or at least Geralt’s belief – Jaskier wasn’t completely useless. Or defenceless. Just because he didn’t carry a sword didn’t mean he couldn’t. He certainly wasn’t a master swordsman but he could…hold a blade well enough. Alright so it had been something closer to a decade, since his days as the little lordling, training to be the knight of his dreams from that age. Of course he quickly realized his talents lay elsewhere and he put down the sword in favour of the mightier pen. Still he remembered some of it.

Which is why Jaskier found himself staring contemplatively at Geralt’s silver sword, laying temptingly on the witcher’s bags. It wasn’t often that he went off without both of his swords but it was broad daylight, in an unremarkable patch of woods by a small shallow lake. The odds of a really bad creature were slim. The bard watched the sword, an inviting callback to his childhood fantasies. Besides Geralt wouldn’t be back for some time and it wasn’t like he was going to go off monster hunting. He just wanted to see if he still could. With that in mind, Jaskier moved to take up the sword, staring at the odd sight of a weapon in his hand. It was heavier than he imagined and longer now that he was actually holding it. He wiggled a bit to find the right grip and rolled his shoulders back like he’d been taught so long ago.

“8 angles of attack,” he muttered to himself. “I think.” He brought the blade on a downward slash, left to right. “One.”” Then right to left. “Two.” He swung horizontally. “Three.” Vertically, top to bottom. “Four.” Jaskier frowned, that couldn’t be right. Oh hang on, other direction. Bottom to top, right to left upwards, left to right upwards, back across the other way horizontally. “Not bad,” Jaskier preened with a little pride. If only he had a dummy to work on – aha there was large bush nearby, it probably wouldn’t mind a little pruning. There was intangible sense of delight carving and Jaskier snickered, demolishing the greenery like a child. Really thank Melitele Geralt wasn’t there.

But of course he was. The White Wolf had returned some moments before with a couple of rabbits for dinner. At first he was little concerned at the absence of lute chords but then he caught sight of the bard with his blade, hacking at the thin air. Fascinating. Jaskier had never displayed any interest in his weaponry and yet here he was and not only that, but it looked like he actually knew what he was doing. He recognized the practice well enough, Gods knew Vesemir made sure of that. Bracing on a tree, his eyes trailed over their tent to Roach calmly chewing on some grass to the fire crackling away then back to Jaskier. It wasn’t often he found himself so – content.

Not to mention how amusing it was watching the bard hack at an innocent bush and yet stirring too. He had skills. Brandishing Geralt’s sword with sure hands. Now Geralt’s eyes lingered over his companion. His overlarge shirt and tight pants emphasizing his small waist and round backside. Long lean legs, hardened from walking. Geralt could imagine their strength, wrapped around _him_. Just then Jaskier flicked the blade over his wrist and Geralt growled quietly. He couldn’t even say what was so appealing about it but in an instant he _wanted_. The bard was always tempting but this was just an inch too far over the line. Not one for self-sacrifice, Geralt moved closer, coming up behind him silently. Jaskier slashed down again and Geralt smirked, “It needs to be higher.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier jumped and made to turn but the witcher caught him from by the shoulders, holding him there. “What are you doing?”

“It needs to be higher,” Geralt guided Jaskier’s blade hand, raising it up and changing the angle slightly. He could feel the bard’s heart beat faster, the faint scent of arousal pricking on his skin – good – and deliberately whispered into his ear, “Now.” Jaskier swung, cleanly cleaving the side of the bush. “Mmmmm,” he hummed. “Better.”

Jaskier valiantly tried not to choke on his saliva. He could feel every hard line of his companion pressed against him. Especially a particularly hard line perfectly set along the seam of his arse. He could get drunk off his arousal alone but he wasn’t about to be the witcher’s whore, not in that sense anyway. “Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve practiced my swordplay.”

“What inspired you today?”

“Felt like it, was curious if I still had any aptitude for it.”

“There is hope for you, near skint but still,” Geralt quipped.

“High praise,” Jaskier turned and backed away, taunting smile on his lips. “Perhaps I should find myself a tutor.” His back hit a tree gently and he rested there, twirling the blade over his wrist. “Any suggestions?” He could see Geralt’s focus on the spinning blade, ah did someone have a kink?

“Some,” Geralt advanced but Jaskier raised it on him. He laid the tip against his bare chest, Geralt didn’t even flinch. Jaskier took a moment to preen; the trust they shared was profound.

“What do you want Geralt?” he asked softly. 

A sardonic smile. “Like you of all people don’t know.”

“Me of all people?” the bard repeated. “What precisely are you insinuating?”

“You swived every cock and cunt between here and Posada and now you want to play coy.”

“No not coy,” Jaskier denied. “Perhaps malicious. You so rarely express yourself with words, one would be remiss to let such an opportunity pass by. Now then, what do you have in mind?”

Geralt’s gaze bored into him, “I want to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

“Hmmm,” the bard palmed himself. “What else?”

“I want to mar that pretty neck and watch it turn blue. Pull your hair and make your eyes weep -”

“Fucking beast.”

“I want – no I _need_ to hear your voice crack,” Geralt growled. “Helplessly clawing at me as every part of you breaks to my pleasure.” Both of them were breathing heavily by this point but the bard got a steely look in his eye.

“If we do this, I think we both know this won’t be like any cock or cunt either of us have had between here and Posada.” Jaskier advanced, sliding the blade up other man’s chest, just barely grazing his neck. “Understand this, I don’t intend to share witcher. Not with whores, or noble women, or even certain purple-eyed witches.”

Geralt spared a glance for sword, his breath deepening and cocked an eyebrow. “Always this greedy?”

“Like you aren’t,” the bard shot back.

“Shouldn’t be surprised,” the witcher mocked. “Constantly begging for my attention. Geralt this, Geralt that, Geralt help _,_ Geralt listen, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt.” Jaskier flushed and Geralt thought he looked rather cute like that. “And the for the record, if you thought I wasn’t going to demand anything less than a wolf’s share of you, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.” 

“And what pray tell is a wolf’s share?”

“Everything.”

Jaskier dropped the sword in time for Geralt’s mouth to crash into his. And fuck if that wasn’t a revelation for them. Incensed, they stumbled haphazardly to the tent and clambered inside. (Roach was not amused.) Geralt’s senses were on fire. Every of inch bare skin he revealed was another place to kiss, suck, or bite but Jaskier didn’t stop him. Others might have protested the bruises but he encouraged them, responded in kind. Red welts rose and faded as the bard’s nails scored his skin. “Geralt please,” he panted. “Want you inside.”

“Still begging?” the other man rumbled.

“Always. And so will you.” With grace unknown, he flipped Geralt onto his back and slid to be level with his cock. “Allow me to demonstrate.” He took him deep down his throat, holding and constricting with ease. The witcher grit his teeth and Jaskier pulled away, pumping the length sloppily. “Not quite,” he squeezed Geralt’s cock, soaking his hand with saliva and pre. “Let’s try again.” He swallowed him down once more and used his sopping fingers to work himself open.

Geralt saw and sat up to get a better view. “Fuck.” He held Jaskier’s head down, thrusting up a little into the wet heat. “Should have known, your mouth.” He clenched his jaw against the roar in his throat. Then the bard did something with his tongue that sent heat rocketing up into the witcher’s head. He hauled Jaskier off and flung him onto the ground.

Feeling more animal than man, he mounted him from behind, landing heavily on both hands either side of his head. Jaskier cried out, fingers digging in at the stretch. “Fuck Geralt, oh gods give it to me, just fuck me -” He squealed as Geralt thrust in completely. Too much, too good. True to his word, the witcher tangled his fingers in his hair, wrenched him back and up. His neck bare and stretched taut; bites began to etch themselves into his very sinew. And true to form, tears pricked Jaskier’s eyes. “Geralt please,” he begged brokenly. “Break me to your cock. I want it, I swear-ERR!” Jaskier’s voice cracked underneath a roar from Geralt.

The witcher rammed into him like a man possessed. He’d be damned if he knew anything other than Jaskier. His scent. His touch. His sounds. He could feel the moment every muscle tensed then went pliant, the air punched with the heavy scent of cum. Reluctantly, Geralt let him fall, barely able to turn in time to land on his back. Jaskier panted heavily with dark lustful eyes. His skin was an absolute mess of marks and seed splattered everywhere. Taking him in, Geralt pumped himself towards the edge until a hand caught his wrist.

“No,” Jaskier pulled him back down. “Inside me.”

“You’ve already…”

“Don’t care,” legs lightly wrapped around his waist, hands pushing his ass, “Still want it.” He breached him again and Jaskier’s nails dug into his backside. He groaned, “Yes, right there, Geralt – fuck!”

Geralt could feel his end fast approaching, pushing up hard into the bard. “Fuck.” Just as he began to spill, he sunk his teeth into Jaskier’s shoulder and the other man spasmed and jerked, crying out. Even when everything physically stopped, they were still overwhelmed.

It took several moments for them to pull away, wincing and groaning in the process. Geralt tumbled down next to his…whatever Jaskier had just become. The ‘his’ part was the most important bit anyway. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“That was -”

“Wow.”

Geralt snorted, truly must have been something to reduce his companion to monosyllabic answers. “So…”

“So…swords do it for you huh?” And he was back.

“And the swordsman wasn’t so bad.”

“That was almost a compliment Geralt. That’s two for the day, I’m honoured.”

“I’d say you earned them.”

“Keep this up and it will go to my head.” The pair chuckled. “We should have a wash though”

“Yeah. You go first, I’ll start dinner, you can take over when it’s my turn.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jaskier gingerly pushed himself up. “Listen what I said before, about not sharing. Heaven knows we can afford to save the coin we spend on brothels and whores and we’d both benefit if I stayed out of royal pantries. But Yen… I know you and her have that djinn shit and I can’t fight fate but I can’t lie either. I really do want our time to be _our time_.”

“It will be,” Geralt promised.

For now at least, Jaskier decided that that was enough. He moved out of tent but threw over his shoulder, “We’re absolutely revisiting that sword kink Geralt of Rivia.” The witcher’s warm laughter followed him.


End file.
